Thank God for Heatwaves
by Lynzee005
Summary: What Pam and Jim did on their summer vacation. Who knows what kinds of interesting things these sweltering nights can lead to?
1. A Sun Too Hot to Go Down

**A/N: I came up with this idea during the first night of a major heatwave in central Alberta, which is still plaguing us (I should be thanking someone for the fact that I'm leaving on vacation to the relatively cooler climate on the west coast in about two hours!! YAY!) ;) Obviously, rated M for sexual content -- turn back now if that's not what you want to read! ****A little nervous about this one -- before you start flaming me and telling me how OOC this is... well, too bad, I wanted to write some erotica and why should our fave couple be off limits? Ha ha... enjoy anyway! Chapter title borrowed from the Stars song "What the Snowman Learned About Love", from the 2003 album _Heart_.  
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Pam brushed away strands of damp hair from Jim's forehead. "Maybe sex wasn't such a good idea tonight."

Jim's husky, breathless reply makes Pam shiver and remember why she went to bed with him in the first place. "I wanted an excuse to get you in the shower."

She giggled and exhaled a breath she scarcely knew she was holding, feeling that familiar ache between her legs that the last half hour should have removed. "Did you now?"

He pushed himself up until his head was resting on the pillow, "You know what was fun about that, Beesly?"

"Enlighten me."

"Without even knowing it, you fulfilled one of my fantasies."

Pam cast her eyes up at him and struggled to push herself up onto her elbow. "How?"

"It's weird."

"Aren't fantasies supposed to be?"

Jim shrugged, "Well, I've always had this thing about doing it when it's hot out… like sticky, steamy, sweaty, stuck-in-a-sauna hot… ."

"Really?" Pam was intrigued, "Why?"

"Something about the way I always imagined it would feel," he put a hand on the curve of Pam's hip and slid down to cup her backside, "You know, to want reprieve from the heat so badly you'd kill to sit in the fridge for five minutes, but at the same time it's driving you mad because all you want to do is press up…," he began to demonstrate, running his hands up and down her leg and closing the gap between them. She could feel his erection again; her mind soared. His lips brushed her temple and then found the cup of her ear, and his tongue flicked in and out so quickly Pam could only tell he'd been there by the slight coolness of the air on her skin from where he'd gotten it wet. "You know… to fuck?"

"I know," her voice was lost in the back of her throat and masked by a groan as Jim nudged his hand between her legs.

"Do you have any fantasies, Pam?"

She gulped, the question bringing her back to reality for a moment. Of course she did. Everyone did. But could she really tell Jim?

"Yeah."

"You don't have to tell me… ."

His concern was endearing and put Pam at ease. "I'm embarrassed," she said, "They're weird."

Jim cocked his head, "But aren't fantasies supposed to be?"

She grinned, "Touché. You got yours tonight, so next time… ."

"Fair enough," he said, "I feel a game coming on."

Truthfully, so did Pam. And she liked it. "Thank god for heatwaves," she whispered. _This is gonna be fun… ._


	2. Playing Dress Up

The rules were simple: one fantasy per night, unless agreed to by both parties (Jim added the caveat that the game would last until the heatwave ended, and since Pam had begun to see the merits in "sultry screwing", she didn't protest), and no laughing or otherwise making fun of fantasies would be allowed. Simple and sexy. Neither of them could wait long for it to begin, which is why day two's session began shortly after lunchtime.

The note Pam left for Jim on the fridge that morning said it all. _I'll be home by noon; don't ask questions._ Jim had to admit that there was something incredibly sexy about the way it was worded, with such assertiveness. He wondered if it was a hint about what was to come, but he didn't think about it too much. Instead, he waited expectantly by the door, like a child or a domesticated animal, for Pam to arrive.

She returned, carrying a bag in her hand. There was no hint on the outside to suggest where it was from; it was just a generic, sturdy brown paper bag with two raffia handles. Jim could tell it was heavy from the way Pam carried it.

Pam entered the house and seemed surprised to see Jim sitting nearby.

"No peeking," she said as she clutched the bag to her chest.

"No fair."

"Those are the rules," she shrugged, "And yeah, I just thought of them now."

"Definitely not fair." He got up and crossed the room to envelop her in his arms, pressing kisses along her jawline and down her neck, but she squirmed away.

"You won't get anything if you're not careful!"

Jim pretended to pout, and Pam raced down the hall. "Ten minutes?" she called to him.

"Ten minutes!" he said.

It took fifteen, but Jim didn't care. Pam strolled out of the bathroom, her hair scooped up in a messy bun at the nape of her neck; she wore a black and white striped bustier with garters attached to thigh high fishnet stockings, while her feet were strapped into a pair of stiletto heels that made her legs appear to go on forever. She posed by the door, and Jim struggled to catch his breath.

"Hi."

"Hi," she whispered, taking a few steps towards the bed, "Fantasy number one... I've always wanted to be…," she blushed a little, which only made the scenario more sexy, more daring, more enticing to Jim as he watched from the bed.

"Screwed senseless?" Jim offered.

Pam nodded. "In the sexiest outfit I own. So now that I own this little number," she wiggled her hips, "It's your turn." It was only then that Jim realized she wasn't wearing panties.

"Is this your fantasy or mine?" Jim asked.

"Mine. Are you complaining?" Pam said, assertiveness returning. She stepped towards him, crossing the distance in a few short steps to straddle him on the bed; through Jim's thin lounge pants, he could feel her warmth and his cock responded accordingly.

"Not at all."

Pam pushed the waistband of his pants down and poised herself over his tip. She lowered herself a little until her lips kissed the glistening head and took him in a just barely enough for him to feel it before she stopped and began to slowly rotate her hips. Jim began to ache, wishing she would just finish him off. He placed his hands on her waist and tried to push her down; Pam took his hands and threw them above his head, pinning them there – with no resistance from a bewildered and incredibly turned on Jim – with one hand.

"You'll wait," she said calmly. She circled her hips a few more times, taking the tip of his penis with her, before slipping down all the way, letting him fill her completely. Jim watched her face flush crimson with pleasure; she smiled at him a little crookedly and brushed some loose strands of hair out of her face with her free hand, but she didn't move. She squeezed, simultaneously grinding her pelvis lightly into his, and he groaned. It became rhythmic -- the squeeze and the grind -- and Jim realized he was so close to coming and Pam had barely moved an inch. When she finally lifted herself, sliding up his shaft, and then dropping back down upon him, Jim thought he might die. She still held his hands above his head, pinning them against the pillow, but she bent down further now, her breasts spilling out of the top of the corset; Jim was a rare breed of man, attracted almost equally to the breasts and the ass, but with Pam's cleavage in his face, he thought it might be high time to declare a winner in the dead heat between the two.

Her breath was on his cheek and he felt her breathe in sharply as she let her other hand explore the juncture between them. When her fingers touched the tender nub, he felt her hand begin to move faster. It was almost his undoing – the outfit first, then the bold language and gestures, now the scintillating sounds coming from her throat. His hips bucked against her, driving her up, and she dropped her head to his shoulder.

"Oh god," she whispered, her breath on his skin and her whisper shivering against his ear. He pushed again, and she met him halfway, the driving force of them both causing explosions where they joined. Her hand moved furiously now; Jim felt his own face warming and sweat began to bead on his forehead. She gripped his wrists tightly then slipped her hand up until her fingers laced between his and she began to squeeze, and even though she wasn't restraining him any longer, he dutifully kept both hands where she wanted them.

She lifted herself and slipped back down again, grinding at the base. He could feel her fingers working furiously between their bodies, and her breaths became moans and more hurried then before, and he bit his lip, feeling his own climax drawing close. She turned her head and muffled her mouth against his neck, still flick flick flicking with her hand. "Jim… god, Jim… I'm coming… "

He turned his head, catching her mouth against his -- wetly, sloppily; she cried out in surprise as his lips met hers, and he moaned because it was so damn sexy he couldn't _not _make a sound. Just then, she climaxed, clenching around his cock in spasms that caused Jim's orgasm to explode within her at nearly the same time. He drove up and into her once last time and waited out the waves with her as she collapsed against his chest, her tightly held and heaving bosom threatening to squeeze out of the top of her corset with each deep breath she took.

Jim kissed her temple and stroked her hair; for a long time, nothing was said or heard but the beating of their hearts and their own heavy breathing. Finally, Jim heard Pam begin to giggle. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Was it worth it?"

Pam's laugh was happy, even in its weariness. "Hell yes," she responded, and Jim had to grin at that.

"Good," he kissed her again, no tongue, just lips and warmth and salty sweat. Her lips were so soft, Jim thought he might get lost in them. He smiled at her. "Now while we're on the subject of costumes… ."


	3. Class is in Session

**A/N: Howdy pervy JAM fans!! (Don't worry, I must be pervier than you if I'm writing it!! haha) Just to clarify a bit, even though it wasn't stated explicitly in the previous chapter, consent is another one of the "rules" of the game... it's kind of a given, I think, but just in case, I wanted you to know that no one is going to engage in non-consensual acts in this story... unless it's part of the role-playing... anyone up for some light BDSM? _(images of John Krasinski and a pair of handcuffs flit through this author's pervy little brain)_ Ahem... anyway... enjoy!! :D**

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The next day, a Sunday, was the third in the promised long line of hot days in the early July heatwave that had socked in most of Pennsylvania and the rest of the northeastern United States. Already, threats of an electricity grid overload and water restrictions had the area in a panic, and sent more than a few people scouring the city of Scranton for bottled water and batteries just in case.

Jim and Pam relaxed at home, watching movies and eating ice cream to stay cool. The memories of the night before were making it difficult to stay focused. But to make things infinitely more interesting, Jim had been leaving clues around the house all day. A collection of sharpened pencils in a small vase on the nightstand, which she found in the morning, was the first thing to tip her off. Then Jim had begun asking silly questions about state capitals or grammar and then smiling smugly before saying things like "Precisely" or "Correct". And he kept eating apples – he'd find apples in random places, like above the TV or underneath the coffee table, wipe them off, shrug as if wondering how on earth these apples ended up where they were, and then take a bite anyway.

When Jim had begun changing clothes periodically – first with a pair of black leather loafers, then a pair of brown wool dress pants (on a day like that, he must have been crazy!), then a dress shirt and bowtie, and finally a houndstooth print jacket in tweed – Pam tried her best to ignore him and wait for the inevitable revelation. But after all the costume changes, he emerged at last with a pipe in his mouth and his hair slicked back so as to resemble a 1950s Brylcreem advertisement model. Pam dropped her spoon back into the tub of Cherry Garcia and clucked her tongue. "What in the hell has gotten into you today?!" she asked.

"Follow me," he said.

So she did, right to the bedroom, where she found an outfit she'd never seen before displayed on the bed. Black form-fitting skirt, white blouse, black blazer.

"What's this?"

"Standard librarian uniform," he thumbed his lapel and rocked back on his heels, "And I'm the principal."

Pam almost began to laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely, I am," he said, with a straight face that made Pam giggle.

"You want me to wear this?" she asked.

He just nodded.

"Terrible, Halpert. And unfair! Why don't I get to see you in costume, like a police officer or something?"

"It's your turn tomorrow, right?" Jim asked, taking a faux puff of his pipe.

Pam grabbed the outfit and sauntered into the bathroom, "And don't you forget it."

She emerged a few minutes later looking amazing and surprising even herself with how fabulous the clothes fit. So Jim had been paying attention those times she had dragged him shopping... .

She scarcely had a moment to think about it; Jim circled around her, eyeing her up and down – Pam loved the feeling of his eyes as they traversed her length. "My plan," he breathed into her ear as he circled around and stopped behind her, "is to role play a situation involving our 'characters'." He cupped the underside of her breasts under the cool satiny fabric of her shirt, and discovered she wasn't wearing a bra; his erection swelled and Pam blushed as she felt it press against the small of her back. "You get to keep the wardrobe of course, and every time you wear it out, to work or to a job interview," he kissed her neck, tonguing lightly over her skin, making her shiver, "You'll remember today."

"I will, huh?"

He pulled away, "Is that a challenge?""It's whatever you want it to be." She stepped away from him and over to the nightstand, grabbing a pair of black rimmed reading glasses from the top drawer. She pushed them onto her nose and looked at Jim over the top edge. "Why, Mr. Halpert, what are you doing in my library at such a late hour?""I didn't know you had those," Jim said.

"Good choice?" she asked, even though she could see the effect she was having on him already. "I'm full of surprises."

"Are you now?"

She shook her head and crossed her arms, "You have a lot of overdue material, sir. I'll need something to guarantee that you'll bring the material back."

"Well, Miss Beesly," he wrapped his hands around her waist and drew her closer, "I'm sure we can work something out."

Pam smiled and tilted her pelvis into him. "I'm sure we can…," she swivelled her hips and then pulled back, sitting on the edge of the bed and hiking up her skirt until it reached her mid-thigh, "…work something out."

"That's what I like to hear."

He approached her, and his hands worked the fabric of her skirt up until it was pushed around her hips. Pam's lips plumped crimson and he could already feel her warmth as his hand brushed the front of her panties. He was certainly aroused, and all the play talk was only making it better. But when Pam's coy eyes locked onto his and she turned around on the bed, pressing her backside into his groin, Jim didn't know what to do. It was a position he'd never been able to ask her for, and yet here she was, seeming to be freely offering it to him. He groaned.

"Yes, Jim, you can take me like this."

As if she had read his mind. Jim undid his belt buckle and zipper fly and kicked the trousers away; Pam hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down her legs, catching them around her ankle and flinging them to join Jim's pants somewhere on the other side of the bed.

Pam had never felt so empowered. She had never liked this position, but seeing Jim's eyes and feeling his hands on her as he entered her that way, kneeing her legs apart a bit for better access, made her stomach flip flop. She gripped the bed sheet, surprised at how great it felt, and backed into him as he thrust. She cast her eyes back at him, remembering an article in Cosmo years ago that said it was a great way to rev his engine or something; it must have worked, because Jim began to pump faster. He bit his lip and held her hips, and she rested, elbows on mattress, enjoying every minute, every thrust, every noise coming from the back of Jim's throat.

Something in his position changed, and Pam felt intense pressure inside her building slowly and steadily. She pushed against him, eager to feel him hit that same spot again and again, which he did without needing to be told. Her grip on the bedsheet tightened and she buried her face in the mattress to stifle the sound. Jim's cock began to throb and he delved deeply with a satisfied half-growl, burying himself to the hilt in her warmth while she gripped him tightly and pushed back against him, grinding against him and not wanting him to move. She could feel him filling her, nudging that spot inside her, and she groaned.

"Naughty Miss Beesly," Jim's voice waved past her ear like smoke as he snaked his hand around and pushed it between her legs. She gasped as his fingertips found her clit, and he momentarily abandoned his own quest for release as he guided Pam to hers. His hand pumped furiously while he pressed his hips against Pam's backside, thrusting only to let her know he was still there (like she could forget). With every half-thrust, Pam groaned; with every stroke of his expert fingers, Pam gasped; and finally, Jim couldn't stand it any longer and he pumped his hips and let himself go, and Pam squirmed under him as he continued to manipulate his fingers. Hearing his groan as he came was Pam's undoing and she began to quiver and spasm, clenching around his cock and squeezing him dry.

"I'm sorry," he was panting against her back.

"Don't be silly," Pam replied. She wanted him to pull out, to spin her around, to lay her down and put his head between her breasts and let her stroke his damp hair and soothe him as he came down from his post-climactic high. But another part of her liked that he was still deep inside her, that she could still feel him and his own spasms, that he was collapsed 

instead against her back because they had most recently been in the throes of the most primal kind of sex, and Pam had liked it immensely. She released her hold on the bedsheets and realized she might have to fire up the iron to get the claw marks out.

"That... was... ."

"Hot," she finished.

"I was going to say that it met the standards of excellence," Jim was still breathless, "'A' for effort."

Pam giggled and pushed back against Jim, and the bond of their bodies was broken and she could spin to face him. She leaned back on her elbows and ran her leg up the inside of his thigh; he bent at the waist and hovered over her.

"Say what you will, Mr. Halpert," she smoothed her skirt down over her glistening thighs. "You still owe me, and I intend on calling it all in."

And with that, he kissed her, biting her lip as he did, and Pam wondered if it was possible to die from happiness.


	4. An Affair to Remember

Monday morning arrived with a shock of humid heat that made everyone cranky. Of course it hit Dwight especially hard, or so he would have everyone believe. He spent the bulk of the morning making every attempt possible to get as far away from Jim as he could, claiming that the "body heat" Jim was giving off raised the temperature of Dwight's ambient space. Jim kindly reminded him of the time he'd claimed to be able to mentally control his body temperature and that unless he planned on moving to the annex where Toby used to sit, it was going to be hard for Jim to stay out of the ten-foot radius circle that Dwight imagined around himself. Dwight considered the annex desk, until he heard Kelly complain about her broken fan, at which point he fell into a meditative silence, while Jim thought about Dwight's body heat comment and his extracurricular activities with the woman who normally sat behind the reception desk.

He was glad Pam had been able to get a week off from school for a "midterm break". It worked out well, however unexpected it was, because she'd made an agreement with her landlord to end her lease agreement before she left for New York and was storing her things in a storage facility until she got back and moved in with Jim. Now, with a week to do nothing, she insisted she would be bored if she didn't just move all her things in now; that was where she would be all week, in the heat, with Mark and her own father, hauling furniture and boxes out of the facility and into the small walk-up Jim rented upon his return from Stamford. There would be too much stuff for the two of them – a yard sale would be necessary, or a big trip to a Salvation Army or Goodwill store. But Jim had very little anyway, and he'd been saving space for her all along.

He smiled at the thought of her, and the memory of the night before came flooding back with her coy half smile and slitted eyes, and he slid his desk chair that much closer to the desk to hide his growing erection, even though no one was paying much attention to anyone else.

It was then that his screen flashed– had he really been putting off actually working long enough for his screensaver to kick in? – as the sound of his email inbox "new message" chime filled the small speakers on his monitor and startled him into nudging the mouse with his hand, springing the image to life. A message from Pam. He licked his lips and smiled as he leaned in to read.

_Jim,_

_Ready for later? Meet me on your lunch break, room 203 of the motel just off the highway. Bring your appetite._

_Pam_

With lunch less than an hour away, Jim had no hope of getting rid of his erection anytime soon. He typed a quick reply, something along the lines of "Thanks for the stiffy, even Dwight can't make this one go away", hit 'Send', and counted down the minutes.

Jim turned the car engine off, marvelling at the record time in which he'd managed to make it from the Scranton Business Park to the motor inn. He saw room 203 from his windshield, and he made short order of the stairs leading to the second level. The walkway was paved with the fake green plastic stuff vaguely resembling putting green grass. _Classy, Pam_. He wondered what this was all about.

He knocked twice and then heard her rush to the door; she opened it a crack and peered out. "Jim?"

"Yeah it's me," he said, a giggle in his voice, "Why aren't you unpacking the storage unit?"

"Ssh," she said, pulling him inside the room and shutting it behind them. The A/C was on, and Jim's breath caught in his throat over the temperature change. It smelled just like a hotel room, and he noticed that the Astro Turf floor covering outside was not a proper indicator of the inside, as it was pretty decent. But then he gave his head a shake and wondered why he was studying the interior when Pam was standing next to him, though in the darkened room she was barely a shadow.

"Pam, what the --."

She pushed him against the wall a little timidly at first, clamping her mouth down upon his with a hunger Jim had come to expect from the diminutive woman though no one else would think she had it in her. He wrapped his hands around her waist and ran them down to cup her backside, and she groaned against him, removing her lips from his and kissing along his jawline to his ear and leaving a wet trail behind.

"When I was with Roy... and right after I met you... I used to imagine how hot it would be... if you and I were having an affair," she said in between sloppy kisses and sharp nibbles at his earlobes and neck.

"What?" Jim asked.

"Seriously," Pam replied, breathless and panting, "It was a fantasy I saved for private moments... when I would imagine you and I... meeting in a dark hotel room somewhere... always a hotel room... ," more kisses, more wetness. Jim exhaled a shaky breath and felt his knees waver and start to buckle. "You'd meet me here... tell me you only had an hour... and I'd say I had to get back before he noticed I was gone... and then you'd take me on the bed... and I'd play this out... so many ways... when I was alone... never when I was with him... it always got me off when I was by myself."

Jim had to admit that, even though he had never really liked it when Pam talked about Roy, this time the fact that one of her fantasies had been about _him_, doing this to her behind Roy's back, made him incredibly horny. Truthfully, the idea had played about in his head many times in much the same way. He pulled his head back, locked his hands on her slender shoulders, and pinned her to the wall across from them, claiming her mouth with a hard, purposeful, hungry kiss.

When he broke away, he pressed his lips to her temple, her soft hair. "Pam... I've only got an hour."

He felt her go weak against him.

"I need you Jim."

"Tell me what you need."

She took one of his hands off her shoulder and pulled it down to the waistband of her shorts, then slipped both their hands inside until she was pressing his fingers to her core so he could feel her wetness on his skin. He pushed his hand down farther and slipped a 

slender finger inside her; she groaned against his shirt. Bringing his hand back out, he licked his finger clean and then hoisted Pam up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he walked her over to the bed, kissing her as he kicked off his shoes and she removed his tie, tasting herself on his lips.

He leaned over the bed and deposited her in the middle of it, on top of the comforter. His tie was off and three of his buttons were undone, but he pushed her hands away. This time, it was about her.

"No, Pam," he said, kneeling over her, "I want to do this for you this time."

Pam went quiet. Jim wondered if he'd said something he shouldn't have, or broke character and made her uncomfortable. Instead, she brought a hand up to the side of his face and even in the dark he could tell she was smiling a little.

"He never does this for me."

Was _she _breaking character? He wondered, feeling a sincerity in her voice and a little sadness too. Their sexual relationship was still so new and yet during that time, Jim had heard her make little comments like that throughout, which made his heart ache that she could have been left so clearly unsatisfied for so long, and yet made him glad that he was the one to initiate her into a world where she was the centre, his reason for being.

He pressed a finger to her lips and then replaced it with his lips. "Just relax, Pam." Then, for good measure, he added: "I love you." He put an emphasis on the 'I', drawing a distinction between him and the other in both the fantasy and reality at the same time, while with equal parts tenderness and savagery, Jim kissed her mouth and worked at pulling her jean shorts down. She kicked them off at the ankles and then pushed her own underwear down until they were hanging off one ankle at the edge of the bed, and Jim was perched between her raised knees. Pam watched as he reinserted his finger into her, deeply, and she felt her stomach flutter. A second finger followed, and he began to slowly press her clit with his thumb; Pam closed her eyes and let her head roll to the side as Jim worked her up, wiggling and coaxing his fingers up and down and around until she felt that same pressure building up inside.

He bent his head low and suckled on her left nipple, loving the way it hardened in his mouth as his lips tightened around it. He matched his stroke to his mouth; with each firm pull at her breast, he quickened the motion of his fingers, and with each slow and lazy circle he traced with his tongue, he let his fingers grow slack and languid, until he became aware of her begging him for his tongue on her, for the release that only that could bring. He trailed wet kisses into the valley between her breasts and repeated the process on the other side, and she groaned in reproach and anguish, squirming beneath his body and grinding her pelvis against the heel of his hand.

"Take me, Jim," she moaned, reaching her hands up and letting them land wherever they could – she couldn't make up her mind where to put them, so the pillow and Jim's hair and the sides of her own head were all temporary resting places for the digits that curled and flexed in vexation at the pleasure she knew would come eventually but which she wanted now. Jim grinned, sucking harder on the skin below her nipple, hard enough to leave a small bruise, and then kissed her mouth once again before dipping lower, stretching out his hand and placing his mouth directly over the bud of sensitive flesh at the crest of her lips.

She groaned loudly, and Jim blew a shot of fast air at the wet nub. Then, with his lips and a little of his teeth, he began to suck and pull at it, teasing it out so it was full, expanding in his mouth. She was gasping, panting, and he could tell she was close; he wanted to wait, but it wasn't his fantasy. He began to pump his fingers and flicked his tongue over her clit, alternating between short bursts of movement and long moments where he drew it into his mouth and suckled. Pam buried her hands in his hair, one on either side of his head, and seemed to pull him in. He slipped a third finger inside, filling her up, and she let in a sharp gasp. She was close.

"Oh god, Jim!" she cried, lifting her hips and him with them, "Jim... ohh... ."

He pumped faster, faster than he thought he could, and felt her begin to contract around his fingers. Her hips bucked; he struggled to stay with her as the first waves broke over her, and he licked and lapped and never stopped moving his fingers, and died to hear her call out his name over and over. He stayed pressed right up to her until she slowed, until the spasms ended and her breathing slowed and the death grip on his hair loosened, and then and only then did he slowly pull his fingers out – delighting in the shivers it caused Pam as it happened, and in the knowledge that he helped get her there – and then crawled up until he was laying next to her.

Pam closed her legs and rested her hands on her eyes, and Jim chuckled. "Hi there."

She lifted one hand. "Hiya."

"Everything okay?"

"Everything great."

Another chuckle, "Me Tarzan, you Jane?"

She removed both hands, looking up into his eyes, and he saw her flushed cheeks and frizzed hair curling at her hairline and around her ears, and felt his own stomach flutter a bit.

"You can be whoever you want to be," she kissed him, licking the remnants of her juices off his lips and the slight stubble from a half-day's growth on his chin. "As long as you keep doing that, I don't care who you are."

Jim grinned, leaning down to kiss her again, and then glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "I've got about forty minutes until Dwight will be expecting me back."

"Just long enough to pick up McDonald's."

"Sounds good," Jim said, pushing himself up to a sitting position. Pam stayed there, stretched out beside him, but Jim wasn't so sure it was all afterglow. "What's up?"

"Do you think I'm weird?" she asked. "I mean, bringing up the past and insinuating that I wanted to have an affair with you while I was with Roy... do you think I'm weird for that?"

The question caught Jim off-guard, but he recovered; he knew Pam needed him to recover, to render his answer to her. He kissed her forehead, then her nose, and then he smiled broadly. "No, Pam. I think you're wonderful."

Even in the dark, again, he could tell she was smiling. "Thanks, Jim."

"You're welcome," he said, and he tossed her both her underwear and her shorts, while he retired to the bathroom to fix his hair and his dress shirt.

"Oh, by the way," he heard her call out to him, "I put the room on your Visa. You left your wallet on the dresser this morning."

Jim shook his head at himself in the mirror, not really shocked at his oversight (it was understandable, after all, because sex with Pam had been what caused the lapse).

_Oh well, _he thought in the end. _Money definitely well spent... ._


	5. Workin' at the Car Wash

**A/N: So... I hope you enjoy it. It was hard to write (mostly because it's hard to know what this feels like, seeing as how I'm clearly a woman!) but I think I did okay at it. Still, it's not my favourite chapter. Next one will be good, I promise!! **

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"You're wasting water."

Pam stomped her foot, "Hey, I never proclaimed to be a car wash goddess or anything. I'm learning… cut me some slack."

Jim leaned back against the wall next to the coin operated box he was in charge of feeding quarters into. Pam was two dollars into her first solo car wash, and she hadn't even turned on the foam brush yet. He chuckled to himself and grabbed another four quarters.

"You better hustle, Beesly. We don't have all day and you're gonna run out of money."

She glowered at him, "I missed a spot."

Jim leaned forward to get a better look at the car. "How can you miss a spot when all you're doing is a pre-soak?"

And then Pam laughed, directing the spray over the hood, splashing Jim with a good dose of pressurized water as it deflected into his face. He spluttered and realized that she got him. Good. Holding out his hands as they drip to the concrete pavement below, he leveled a gaze at her.

"This is war," he said slowly.

Pam squealed and headed one way around the car; Jim was in hot pursuit. But she had the gun, and all he could find were the chamois cloths that used to be in Pam's pocket but which she let fall to the ground. He picked them up, soaking wet, and began hurling them one after the other across the car at her. The third throw landed a hit square in the back of her head as she turned around to disentangle the wand hose from the antenna.

Jim seized the opportunity, racing down the length of the car to her side and wresting the handle from her grasp. Careful not to point the spray directly at her, he held her wrist and aimed the water at the trunk, where it bounced off and splashed all across her front, soaking her shirt and running in rivulets down to her shorts, which turned deep indigo from the water.

It's then, in the still early twilight of a glimmering July evening, parked in the car wash bay a few miles from the place they now share, that Jim wished Pam wasn't going back to art school in New York after the weekend. He would never dream of telling her that; she was already pushing it by driving back early Monday morning for her first class, just so she could spend the extra night with him, and he could tell she felt guilty about it and it was her decision to do it. But as he watched her in her little jean shorts – the same ones from the day before – and the blue and pink 

checkered shirt she bought at some rodeo forever ago, looking a little like Daisy Duke but sophisticated, despite the car wash water fight, Jim realized how much he absolutely needed her, how much he'd taken her for granted even in those early days when she wasn't his but at least he'd get to see her every day.

He kissed her. Soaking wet and wasting water, he kissed her and she kissed him back, tangling her fingers in his hair and standing on her tiptoes to get better access to him. He gripped her around the small of her back and held her close. The unbearable heat was beginning to make them feel dry already, but Pam shivered in his arms anyway in spite of the temperature.

Finally she pulled away. "Can I finish washing my car now?" Her voice was soft and low and brushed his skin like silk.

"Give it a try," he whispered.

She laughed and made a face at him, then turned around to aim the wand back at the car. The time had run out and the nozzle dripped lonely water droplets onto the trunk. Pam pouted, and Jim wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Let's go somewhere."

"Where? My car is half-washed."

"We can finish it later," he kissed her neck, skimming his tongue along the taut muscle that ran from her neck to her shoulder. She moaned a little and the metal nozzle fell slack against the rear spoiler. "Besides, at the rate you were going we wouldn't have any money left for groceries."

"So not fair," Pam said, unconvincingly, as she leaned her head a little more to the side to grant him better access to her damp skin.

"I have a better idea for how to spend this evening."

Pam clucked her tongue and turned her head to face him, catching his bottom lip as he pulled away. "It's your turn today, isn't it?" Jim nodded, and Pam grinned. "Well, what do you propose?"

He glanced at the car and then back at Pam. "Come on, Beesly. Let's go."

He hopped into the driver's seat while Pam went to retrieve the pile of quarters still on the machine beside the large bay door. They sped out of the stall and Pam scooted over in her seat so she could reach Jim, trailing her hand across the front of his jeans and applying just the right amount of pressure to force an erection. It didn't take long.

"Okay," Jim said, "We can do that fantasy… ."

Pam's hand flew away from his lap and she cast him a worried look. "Is this not what you had in mind?"

Jim smirked at her as he slowed down for a red light, "Well_ I_ was just going to take you home. _This_…," he raised his eyebrows, "…this is _much _better."

Pam's smile returned and she reached over again, this time letting her slim fingers dance over the button fly of his jeans, undoing them one at a time, painfully slowly. "Keep your eyes on the road, Halpert."

So he did. He forced himself to concentrate as hard as he could on the road in front of him while Pam wrapped her fingers around his cock and began to stroke him, right there in the front seat of her car. It was the hardest thing he'd had to do, made easier only owing to the fact that little old ladies and mothers jogging with their toddlers in strollers passed by him at seemingly every turn. But eventually, the sensation of her warm hand running up and down his slick shaft drove him to the brink and he realized he had to stop the car.

He had no idea where they were; the road signs were obscured by overhanging tree branches, and it was that time of night now where the sun was providing so little light but the streetlamps hadn't come on yet. He only knew that it was a not-quite paved, not-quite dirt road they were on, somewhere in a new sub development, and he was acutely aware of the two or three houses whose inside lights indicated that there were people around. The fact that Pam continued to jerk him twenty feet away from some family's dining room almost made him come right then and there, and he groaned, throwing the car into park and leaning back against the headrest while his fingers strove to turn the key in the ignition.

Pam wasted no time; as soon as the car's engine shuddered to a halt, she dipped her head and impaled her lips on him. Jim cried out, so shocking was the sudden act. Her hand continued to stroke, meeting her mouth half way when she pushed herself down on him, and the alternating sensation was incredible enough to make Jim feel like exploding. He had dreamt about this, jerked off to it many times, but the real thing – the first time he had ever been given a blow job in the car – was a million times better than anything he could have imagined. The pressure began to build.

"Oh god…," he croaked out as she began to move faster, pushing herself to take him in deeper and deeper. Her tongue moved in circles around the tip when she drew her lips up the shaft, and she'd press her tongue flat against his skin as she dove back down. One of his hands gripped the steering wheel; the other wandered aimlessly, catching Pam's ass or playing inside the top of her shirt, under her bra. 

Finally, she took him all the way, pressing him back and down into her throat, and Jim grasped at Pam's shirt as she held him there for an eternity before relaxing her throat and letting him go. The sound of her lips and the feel of it all made stars appear behind Jim's closed eyes, and he unconsciously thrust up once as the pressure exploded and he began his release. He was barely aware of any of it, where he'd eventually dropped his hand (wrapped up in Pam's curls at the nape of her neck), the fact that his hand was gripping the steering wheel so tightly it had begun to hurt (he didn't feel a thing), that Pam was still drawing up on him as he came into the warmth of her mouth (or the moans she was making, which he didn't hear).

He eventually opened his eyes, flexed his hand, and blinked a few times before looking down towards Pam. It felt like an hour had passed; in reality, it had been less than a minute. Still, the way Pam had reclined, maneuvering her body between the gear shift and the armrest as she rested her head on Jim's thighs, and the fact that she had already done up his pants made Jim wonder how long it had been.

The look of confusion on his face made Pam giggle. "Earth to Jim!"

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she winked, "I've been known to have that effect on a man."

Jim was conscious of the fact that he was blushing; he wondered if she could tell. "That was incredible."

"Thanks."

Jim looked around him. The streetlights had come on; he saw a couple ride by on their bikes, and part of him felt like waving as they glanced in the car. "So what do we do now?"

Pam patted Jim's leg and sat up, "Well, I think you'll need to go home and get some rest."

"Why?" Jim asked.

She winked at him as she slid her seatbelt across her breasts and clicked it into place. "Because… tomorrow is my fantasy day, and I have a real good one cooked up for you."

With that thought in mind, and no more words on the subject on the ride home, Jim was left to his imagination. He couldn't wait until Wednesday… .


	6. Elevator, Take Me Home

**A/N: This one's a doozy! 2,700 words! Holy crap! Anyway, it's a gooder -- I think this might be one of my faves. I hope you like it! :) Borrowed the chapter title from another Stars song, this time "Elevator Love Letter" from _Heart_. Listen to it while you read -- it's really great, upbeat song for this chapter, I think!  
**

* * *

"Look who's back," Jim said as he pushed open the door to the office and stepped inside the small lobby, Pam trailing behind him.

Dwight glanced up from his computer screen, "Hi Pam," was his curt greeting. Some people looked up, and a small chorus of "Hey Pams" followed from those she could see sitting at their desks.

Pam was unsure of how to respond. She smiled a little and shrugged, "Hey Dwight… everyone… ."

Hearing this from the annex, Kelly squealed: "PAM! OHMYGOD PAM!"

As she came running out, arms outstretched to embrace her, Michael opened his door and peered out into the room.

"Hey Pam!" he said, "Nice of you to drop in. Thought you'd be too big for us townies after being up there in New Yawk… for… however long," he laughed to himself at his accent though it was clear that he had no idea how long Pam had been gone.

Pam shifted her weight as Kelly nearly knocked her down. "Well I'm only there for three months, Michael."

"Three months too long!" he said, motioning with his head quietly but not quietly enough to avoid detection of the temp receptionist answering phones behind the desk. The woman sitting there seemed to glare at Michael. Pam felt sorry for her and flashed her brightest smile in the woman's direction. She just glowered at Pam and returned her attention to her computer, and Pam realized there might be more to Michael's dislike of the new girl than her dowdy appearance.

"We've got soooo much to catch up on!" Kelly said, linking her arm through Pam's as she began to retell every single gossip story, from entertainment to the office, with equal parts glee and "Squee!"

Pam glanced back at Jim, who shot her a half smile as he prepared to sit back down at his desk. As she was nearly dragged away, she began to protest. "Well I only really stopped by to go for lunch with Jim… I actually have to be getting back to unpacking… ."

"Unpacking?" Kelly said, "What are you unpacking for?"

Another furtive glance at Jim, who just continued to smile in disbelief and seemed quite content to leave her there to answer for herself.

"Um… well… Jim and I… ."

"Oh that is soooo adorable!" Kelly said, "I always knew that you and Jim would be the cutest couple! Well, except when you were with Roy, then I thought you two were the cutest, and… ."

"Yeah, and look how that turned out," Angela chimed in from the accounting corner. "Maybe you should have learned that living in sin isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Pam blushed and uncomfortably looked away. _If only she knew the amount of sin… ._ "Good to see you too, Angela."

Angela smiled, her thin lips unconvincing in their awkward show of jubilation. "Likewise," she said before turning around and sitting back down at her desk.

Pam brushed some hair behind her ear and looked down at her shoes, "So you guys miss me at all?"

"Like crazy," Kevin said as he walked near her to get to the storage cabinet to get a pack of paper for his printer. As he approached, he leaned closer and lowered his voice, motioning to the front desk again. "No jellybeans," he whispered.

Pam winked at him and nodded, making a mental note to buy an extra bag of just for him when she returned. At that moment, Holly strolled out from the annex; her smile was warm as she extended a hand in greeting to Pam.

"Welcome back," she said, "Pam, right?"

"Right," Pam said, shaking Holly's hand, "Nice to see you."

"How's life in the Big Apple?"  
"Exciting," Pam replied, "But I miss it here."

Holly glanced back at Jim's desk and smiled knowingly, "I'll bet you do, Pam."

Kelly giggled. "Awww… Pam's blushing!"

Pam was blushing; she looked down again and finally managed to wrest her arm free of Kelly's grasp, "I really should get going. I just wanted to pop in and say hi to everyone."

Most everyone had gotten back to work. Andy stretched his hand out for a High Five, which Pam returned only because his arm was blocking her path; Creed slightly inclined his head, which Pam took to be a salutation of some sort. A part of her missed Toby suddenly. But as she neared Jim's desk again, she smiled and warmed up, and she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Walk me to the car?"

"Sure," he said, pushing his chair back and standing up. They walked back out of the office and down the hallway.

"Nice reception," Pam muttered.

"Have you forgotten who you work with?"

Pam shrugged, "Well… when you put it that way, anything else _would_ be out of character."

"Exactly," Jim said as he pushed the button on the elevator, "Be thankful you got anything! They're already planning the going away party for Julie."

"Who's Julie?"

"The charming specimen residing at your former workstation."

Pam laughed and leaned into Jim. The office had been air conditioned, but the hallway was warming up like a greenhouse; Jim's cotton dress shirt was cool against her arm for a split second, and she relished the feeling. Jim inclined his head and kissed Pam's hair. "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm," she replied. The elevator gears whirred, reminding Pam of something, and she got an idea. Glancing down the hallway, and seeing that there was nobody around to catch them, her smile broadened.

"Come with me," she said, grabbing Jim's hand in hers. As she marched ahead and Jim trailed behind, Pam got a funny image in her head, in which she was the excited child and he was the unenthusiastic parent, and they were going to the zoo. She giggled at her own imagination. _We could be animals_, she thought as she neared the large doors at the end of the corridor.

"What are you doing?" Jim asked as they entered the dingier room beyond.

Pam stopped dead in her tracks, still holding Jim's hand, and pointed to her right. "Freight elevators," she said, matter-of-factly, and beaming from ear to ear.

Jim looked bewildered. "Good job, Beesly. Now you know how they get the paper from the warehouse to the office." He patted her head, "Good girl."

Pam wrinkled her nose and reached out to press the button, "I'll bet you don't know that there's a way to halt the elevator between floors without an alarm going off."

"Now why would I know that?"

"Safety," she shrugged, "Darryl mentioned it to the property manager, like, two years ago, and nobody's come out to fix it. You can manually override the elevator if there's no mechanical failure by calling it from the warehouse."

As the freight doors opened and Pam dragged Jim inside, he screwed up his face and shook his head, "But what if there is a mechanical failure?"

Pam grinned and the doors began to inch closed, "I guess whoever is in here would have to make a lot of noise…," Pam pushed against the wall, "This puppy is pretty soundproof."

And that was when Jim alighted to Pam's idea. He grinned and leaned against the padded walls. "Is it, now?"

All Pam had to do was grin, and as the elevator moved down to about halfway to the warehouse, Jim reached out and hit the emergency stop button. The elevator ground to a halt, and without missing a beat, they flew to each other. In a flurry of movement and clothing, Pam fumbled with the belt buckle and then the zipper of Jim's dress pants; he leaned against the wall, bracing himself with one arm on either side of Pam's shoulders, while he bent his head low to catch her collarbone or her neck beneath his wet lips. When his trousers dropped to the floor, the belt buckle thud reverberating loudly in the large enclosure, Jim wasted no time in helping Pam hike up her skirt around her hips and pull her panties down until they dangled around her ankle. She looked up at him, winking in that way that she was sure only she could wink at him, and with his strong hands he lifted her off the ground and up into his arms, while she wrapped her long legs around his middle.

Pam felt Jim's erection pressing against her, reminding her of what she coaxed him in there for. "Fantasy number three," she whispered, using her hands to steady herself by putting them on his shoulders, "To have sex at the office."

"This is hardly the office," Jim reminded her.

"It's in the building."

"So is the supply closet." He kept kissing her. She shivered.

"Maybe next time."

Jim pulled away for a second to take her in. "You're wicked," he breathed against her lips.

"You love it," she intoned back at him. His tongue probed ever-deeper, and Pam wriggled as Jim pulled down his boxers. She kissed him, at the same time feeling his cock spring up against her again, and despite being pinned against the wall, she controlled her movement enough to manipulate herself over him and begin to push down with her weight until he was sheathed inside her.

Jim groaned. "What if someone calls the elevator?"

"It's all part of the excitement," she reminded him. Using one hand, hooked around her shoulder to hold her steady, he thrust up. Pam bit her lip, unprepared for the shock.

"You okay?" Jim asked.

She nodded, kissing him. "It's fine. I'm fine. Keep moving."

He did, locking eyes with her as he pressed her against the wall of the elevator and pushed his way inside over and over. She had never done it standing up, but most of her sexual encounters had been vanilla to the max. Never before had she ever wanted to do anything but that… and then she'd met Jim. Before they were together – and now even more so that they were – she'd spent days, literally, imagining his "sex face", how he would look like at the moment of climax, or how he'd look in mid-thrust. There was something enticing about thinking about a man in such a state, and it always made Pam weak in the knees. With Jim, she imagined him in so many places and so many positions she hadn't thought anything could surprise her anymore. She visualized way the muscles in his back would flex when he held himself over her, or how his stomach muscles would contract when she was on top and he was craning his neck to get a good look at her or give himself extra leverage, where he would put his hands in the most tender of moments during the fluffy lovemaking that they would both surely enjoy as much as the romance novels told Pam they should. However involuntary the movement was, Pam imagined it, looking for the real thing whenever they were together, and liked thinking that one day, she'd be the one to cause it.

He managed to surprise her only with the way his face mirrored his emotions. In her imagination, Jim was always with his eyes closed, focusing on himself, maybe biting his lip or something, but it was mostly drawn from what she already knew and she didn't know how much to expect with another man. In reality, Jim was so expressive – sometimes he concentrated, furrowing his brow as he drove inside her with all the pent up aggression their long and restrictive courtship had built, and sure, he bit his lip. But he bit hers too, and then he'd open his eyes and kiss her, looking right into her so deep she was worried he was reading her very soul; one time, he'd forced her to keep looking at him like that, pressing his lips against hers so that they bruised the next day, until she came. She liked Intense Jim and Concentrating Jim equally, but there was Goofy Jim, who would kiss her nose or make growling puppy sounds, then roll his eyes and laugh, and he was a riot; once or twice, after a fight, she'd met Angry Jim, who was a bit rougher but never mean, with a slight scowl on his face and coarse kisses, and Pam liked that just as much. Still, she was still a vanilla girl at heart, and so Tender Jim was her favourite – when he was around, out came the softest kisses she'd ever experienced, while he rested his head against hers and touched their noses together and tried to stay as connected across the length of their bodies as he could.

Pam wondered which Jim would present himself now. She watched him watching her, eager to find out. And then he winked at her, and her stomach fluttered. Only Jim could do that, take her secrets and make them his own like he knew her inside and out. The smile that came next, stretching broad across his face as his forehead beaded with sweat and his mouth parted slightly as he breathed, thrusting in and pulling out and holding Pam tight against the wall as he did so… and Pam grinned, for she'd finally met Naughty Jim and she might have to rearrange her favourites.

"Pam… coming… almost," he whispered hoarsely, driving up into her, his disjointed sentences just another Jim-ism that drove Pam wild, when he was able to speak at all and wasn't signalling his climax with loud groans and mutterings against her skin.

Pam ran her hand through her hair, pushing it up off of her skin to let the air get at it, "God…," she whispered, realizing that she was that close to without even trying to be. He kissed her exposed throat, and she moaned, her hand snaking between them to find the source of her pleasure only to realize that Jim had beaten her to it. He was steadying himself against the wall with one hand while he stroked her with the other. It didn't take long. She rocked her hips back and forth grinding against his hips, and as she felt herself begin to flex around him, he bent his head to her shoulder, grunting loudly as he pulsed within her and drove up frantically to finally reach orgasm. While she road her own wave, Pam stole a glance, noticing his mouth still agape and a look on his face that she might otherwise think was pain but which she knew was pure agony. She recognized it because not only was it the face she imagined she wore, it was the face she'd imagined on him, the one that made her stomach flutter before she knew what it looked like for real. She kissed Jim's forehead out of love for him and gratitude that he was who he was.

"Pam, I don't think it gets any better than this," he said, his voice hoarse. He unhooked his damp hands from where they'd lodged against her skin and Pam uncrossed her ankles from behind Jim's back. Sweat ran down the middle of her back and matted Jim's hair to his forehead.

"You get tomorrow night," she said, straightening her clothes. "Make it better."

"I don't know if I can," he whispered. She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and pulled him to her, kissing his cheeks and nose and forehead and eyelids before pressing his lips and holding him there for a long while.

"Thanks for the quickie," she offered.

"You're welcome."

"What are you going to tell them when you get back up?" she asked as she switched the toggle that sent the elevator down to the main floor.

Jim hurried to do up his belt, his hands shaking. He ran one back through his hair, "I had to take the stairs." And there was that wink again, and Pam grinned. "The elevator was stuck, you know."

_Don't I, though? _She thought, pressing her hand into his as the doors slowly opened into the main lobby and they stepped out towards the parking lot.


	7. Pushing Buttons

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. Here is the next chapter... don't you wish heatwaves could always be this fun?!**

* * *

The heat bubbled up the corridor of the Scranton Business Park building like the alcohol in the thermometer on the wall that Michael kept whining to all morning, like it had something to do with the current weather. Unlike their boss, most everyone felt tolerably comfortable in the air conditioned space despite the appalling 100F temperature outside. Still, even though it was cool in the office, Jim was not in any mood to spend his lunch hour in the break room, where the constant drama in the unfolding debacle that was the Andy/Angela/Dwight trifecta had proved too nauseating for words; just that morning, when he stepped inside for a bag of chips, he'd found Andy practically grovelling at Angela's feet to take him back. Rather than risk actually leaping from the rooftop (and without the aid of a bouncy castle, he noted wryly), Jim instead chose to eat his lunch in his car, where he had A/C and his own music to drown out the chaos of the rest of the world.

As he slipped out, he wondered if anyone would notice if he had left. He frankly didn't care – the heat, combined with the inanity of the goings on of his colleagues and the fact that in a few short weeks the camera crews would be back to hound them again and Pam wouldn't be there to help him through it… it was all too much for him and he wished desperately that he could just disappear off the grid without the worry that someone somewhere might go looking for him.

Plugging in his iPod, Jim took a generous bite of his ham and cheese sandwich and flipped through his playlists, settling on a classical playlist he'd made after going to the symphony in New York with Pam a few weekends earlier. As the strings filled his car and dripped in his ears, the harsh vibration of his cell phone in his pocket created a surge of frustration and annoyance that washed through him, jarring him in its dissonance. He had a feeling it was Pam so he fished around to answer it; it was her, and he smiled despite himself, rubbing his eyes as he put the phone to his ear, "Hey."

There was a pause, "What's wrong?"

"How did you know?"

"The tone of your voice," she replied, "and I can hear Debussey in the background."

Jim turned down the volume, "It's been a long morning."

"Wanna talk about it?"

He laughed, "Do you have an hour?"

She giggled, "Is it Dwight?"

"I wish."

"That bad, huh?"

Jim nodded, and Pam understood, like she could hear his head move. He loved her for that, because sometimes he just didn't want to speak and with her, he sometimes didn't have to.

"Wanna hear something crazy?" she asked.

"Shoot."

"I'm not wearing any underwear."

Jim's eyes snapped open and he looked into the mouthpiece of his phone. "Excuse me?"  
"You heard me," she was grinning.

"Um, who are you and what have you done with Pamela Beesly?"

"Have you forgotten what we've been up to all week?" Pam asked, "My, it must be hot. Your brain is melting, isn't it?"

Jim grinned, "Well regardless of that, I think you broke it several times already."

Pam laughed. "Don't you remember what you told me last night before bed?"

"No."

"You were half asleep," she said, "Mumbling and whatnot."

"Just tell me."

She laughed again, "You confessed that you'd never had phone sex, and wondered if I would ever consider it."

Jim's pants felt too restrictive all of a sudden. He placed his lunch kit on the seat beside him and leaned back against the headrest, glancing around the parking lot as he did just to make sure; still, he lowered his seat down as far as it would go and leaned the seat back a bit to hide his frame as best he could. "Would you?"

"What do you think?"

He slowly undid his belt buckle. "What _are _you wearing, then?"

"Nothing special," she said, "I think I'm going to take it off anyway."

"What's stopping you?"

"I wish it were your hands slipping my bra straps over my shoulders… ."

Jim grasped his throbbing cock in his hand and began to stroke.

"…And your hands running down my stomach… ."

He groaned.

"… Your fingers pushing my panties down… ."

Jim croaked, "I thought you said you weren't wearing any."

She giggled, "I guess I'm just a bad liar."

"You're a bad lot-of-things," Jim said, moving his hand a faster as he spoke, gripping himself as he slid his fingers up and down the shaft in time with his rapid breaths.

"I'm lying in our bedroom," she said, her voice low and whisper soft against his ear, "My clothes are all in a heap on the floor… . If you were here beside me, I would pull you over so you were on top of me… ."

"Would you now?" Jim asked, suddenly getting an idea. He pressed the phone to his cheek as he started the car engine and tucked himself away – with great difficulty – and readjusted his chair. Then he backed his car out of the stall.

"I would… then I'd ask you to kiss me anywhere but on the lips…," she sighed, "Would you like to kiss my neck?"

"Yes," Jim breathed heavily into the phone, wondering how he'd be able to drive distracted like this for much longer.

"I made sure to put on that body cream, the kind that tastes like strawberries… can you taste it on your lips?"

Jim thought he almost could. "Yes, I can."

"Do you want to kiss my breasts?"

As he throbbed beneath the steering wheel, he wondered what the jail penalty was for masturbating while driving. His voice came out husky and coarse. "Yes. I do."

"I'd make sure you gave each of my little nipples equal attention…," she said, and he heard her sigh and groan a bit.

"Are you touching yourself?"

"And imagining it's you," she said.

_Two more blocks, Halpert. Two more blocks. _"God, Pam…," he groaned.

"You're much bigger," she said, "Your fingers are longer… you fill me up more than I can… I like the feel of your thighs brushing between mine as you hover over me… ."

Jim turned the corner onto his street. Pam's car was in the parking lot; he swung around and pulled in beside her. With one hand, he slipped the top button of his pants through the button hole and hurried out the door, careful not to slam it. "Tell me more."

She groaned, "I'm so wet already… I could just slide you in right now… ."

"Could you really?" he raced into the building and up the stairs. "How much do you wanna bet that you could slide me into you right now?"

"Well I can't," she pouted, "You're not here."

He slid his key into the lock and turned; the tumbler gave and with a shush the door opened. He was quiet as he deposited his keys on the table beside the door. "It's too bad, isn't it?"

Another faint groan. "Mm-hmm… just too bad you aren't here to help me out… ."

Jim was ten feet away from his masturbating girlfriend. He thought his cock might just explode then and there. He padded softly to the bedroom door.

"Really."

Rustling, a gasp. "Really."

He pushed lightly on the bedroom door, and heard Pam shriek on the other side and right in his head. When he stepped around the door and came into her line of vision – and saw her, sprawled out on the bed, gripping the phone in her hand and tangled up in the sheets – he flipped his phone closed. Dropping his phone onto the dresser, he loosed his tie and kicked off his shoes.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Miss Beesly."

She grinned, her face flushed, and pushed herself up onto her elbows, "Jim Halpert, subterfuge is thy middle name."

He let out a low growl and stalked over to the bed, where Pam pulled him down on top of her. She was right; he slid right in.

* * *

As Jim buttoned up his shirt and let Pam retie his tie for him, he pressed his phone to his ear. "Yeah, Michael? Uh… sorry, man, I'm running a bit behind. Something came up at lunch."

Pam reached down and brushed him gently with her flat palm; he pushed her hand away and frowned.

"It sure did come up," she whispered.

"Get lost!" he mouthed, turning his attention back to the phone as Pam leaned back on the bed, "Yeah, Michael, thanks. I'll be right back."

He flipped his phone closed, still searching for his other shoe. It was under the bed; Pam rolled over onto her stomach and lifted the shoe up with one finger.

"Looking for this?"

"I'm gonna be late," he said.

"Give us a kiss first," she whispered, "Then we'll talk."

He bent down, pressing his tie against his shirt to keep it from getting in the way, and captured her mouth. She groaned against him, embedding her fingers in his hair and pulling him closer, and he rested his free hand against her cheek.

"I've gotta go," he whispered, breaking the contact to speak and then kiss her nose.

"I know."

"Thanks for…," he grinned, "…lunch."

"You're welcome."

He paused, resisting, and then quickly dove in for another kiss. He walked out the door this time, pausing only to take one last glimpse of the goddess reclining in his bed before smiling back. "I think this time you did melt my brain."

"Get out of here."

"I'm gone," he said. He tasted her on his lips, tingling and warm, for the rest of the afternoon.


	8. Rub A Dub Dub

"Jim?" Pam called from the bathroom, "Can you bring me my towel?"

"It's behind the door," Jim's faint reply was heard from the living room.

Pam groaned and sat back against the tub, letting the water splash around her body. They were supposed to be going to a Fourth of July party at Andy's house -- Jim somewhat wryly noted that perhaps it was all a gameplan to get Angela back, and Pam heard him mutter something about how Andy could sabotage the nation's birthday fireworks too, which she didn't understand. It hadn't mattered. She had only a few days left with Jim before she went back to New York, and she didn't want to spend them at Fourth of July parties in the insane heat that was still engulfing the area.

_Maybe a bath was a bad idea_, Pam wondered as she felt her face flush and a bead of perspiration trickle down her neck. As she brought her hand up to wipe it away, she realized she'd forgotten to wash her hair. _Maybe the heat broke my brain, too_.

"Do you want me to get it for you anyway?" Jim hollered.

"Oh, no. Sorry," she called back, "I'm not ready to get out yet. I forgot to wash my hair."

She began to let her hair out of the claw clasp that held it in plae on top of her head, and was startled to hear the door open. "Jim!"

"Sorry, I didn't hear you," he blushed, grinning. "It's not like I've never seen you before, you know."

Pam laughed, "Do you remember that _Seinfeld_ episode. Sometimes naked isn't good."

Jim was standing halfway in the room, his body wedged between the door and the frame. "There's nothing bad about you naked," he drawled, his low voice resonating through the air and making the water that lapped around her thighs vibrate with its energy. She felt herself tingle.

"I beg to differ," she grinned.

"You never answered my question," Jim replied. "Did you want your towel now or not?"

"I did tell you; you just didn't hear me."

"Riiiight," Jim nodded.

"I forgot to wash my hair," she smiled teasingly as she reached up to finish pulling her hair out of the clip. "Will you close the door now, you're letting all the heat out."

"It's like four hundred degrees outside," Jim joked, stepping inside the room and shutting the door behind him. "You're the only person I know who takes a bath in a hot, humid room during a heatwave."

"Are you done insulting me?" she glanced at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Maybe," he stepped towards her and rolled up his sleeves, "But first let me help you wash your hair."

"What?" she asked, genuinely startled.

Jim grinned in that lopsided way only he could get away with, grabbed the drinking cup from beside the sink, and kneeled down beside the bathtub. "Let me wash your hair."

"Okay…," Pam replied, a little warily, as she positioned herself next to him. He brought a hand up to loose her hair, letting it tumble down her shoulders, a stark contrast against her still-pale winter skin. "I need a tan," she muttered, shrugging her shoulders inward self-consciously.

A little _too _self-consciously, Pam realized, as Jim put a soothing hand on the nape of her neck, against the damp curls nestled there. "Don't curl up like that," he said softly.

"Sorry," she whispered, "It's just… ."

"It's nothing," he said, smiling, "and stop saying 'sorry'."

"Sorry," she replied, then began to giggle. Jim flicked water at her with the fingertips of his free hand.

"Lean back," he instructed, and Pam did, unfolding herself to lay bare against the supportive strength of his hand, still on the back of her neck. Jim smiled down at her and shook his head. "Relax, okay?" He dipped the rim of the cup into the warm water that surrounded Pam and then then poured the water down over her hair. It felt so nice, Pam closed her eyes, still smiling.

"God, you're beautiful," she heard him say after a moment.

"Jim," she complained, opening her eyes, "I look terrible in flourescent."

"Impossible," came his reply, and one look in his eyes showed her that he meant it. He cocked his head to the side and bent down to kiss her, lifting her up to meet him. She wanted to lift her arms and wrap them around his neck, but she was sopping wet and he was still wearing his work clothes, so she resisted. But somehow he knew what she wanted to do, and using his free hand, he guided her arm around his shoulder. Breaking away for a moment, he spoke. "It's just a shirt."

Pam pressed her lips to his again and delved deeper, wrapping her other arm around his back as he held her, suspended above the water. She wondered how one person could be so terribly intoxicating -- she had never felt this way, so fervent and breathless and _turned on_, about anyone else before. A moan escaped her throat, smothered against their joined lips, and as Jim's tongue played with hers, she felt his hand roaming across her slick belly, diving below the water line, trying to dive between her legs. She opened her raised knees, allowing him a little access, and his fingertips wasted no time in finding her centre.

She broke away, her head lolling back as he began to massage her. He kissed her exposed throat, biting at the flesh just above her collarbone. She moaned many unintelligible words, and felt her heart begin to race. She leaned back farther until her head was resting against the tiles, and Jim released his hand from her neck, knowing she was supported by the wall. Still his lips danced across her chest and neck, playing at her jawline and nibbling at her earlobes, leaving her lips free to form the moans and ecstatic gasps that she knew would be his undoing. Finally, as he slid two long fingers deep inside of her, she heard him begin to groan against her skin, and knew he was pleasuring himself.

His own muffled moans drove her mad, but the movement of his fingers embedded so far within her and the feel of his thumb as it pressed against her clit drove her over the edge. She felt that familiar pressure building up deep behind her pelvis, and she lifted her hips out of the water, fixing the angle at which Jim's fingers were plying her, and suddenly it was as if the floodgates opened. Pam's hips began to buck; her eyes flew open and she gaped open-mouthed at the ceiling as the waves of her orgasm washed over her like the water that splashed around her body, soaking them both. Jim lifted his head, his lips crushing hers as he claimed another satisfyingly deep kiss, and as his low moan exploded from his throat, Pam knew he had reached his peak.

Her movements slowed; Jim's fingers stilled themselves between her thighs. The water lapped against her body. She felt the weight of her breasts as the water lifted them up and settled them back against her rib cage, but she was too weak to care if it wasn't the most flattering thing for Jim to witness. She had a feeling he didn't care either.

Still, Jim's mouth covered hers, his tongue still probing deep, and Pam lifted a hand to caress his face, already covered in stubble, and she slowly pulled away. "Jim Halpert, you are the most incorrigible… ."

"Shut up and kiss me," he muttered. She giggled against his mouth.

"You never did wash my hair," she muttered as she broke away for a second to speak.

Even though her eyes were closed, she knew he was grinning; she could feel his lips spread into a smile as he pecked her. "What would have rather done?" he teased.

"Like I said," she replied. "Incorrigible… ."

As Pam stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her top, she noticed the unbroken line of dark clouds on the horizon outside the window. As if on cue, Jim walked into the bedroom behind her.

"The forecast is calling for rain," he said, planting a kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. "You look stunning, by the way."

"So the heatwave is over?"

"Looks like it."

Pam turned and fit herself into Jim's arms, "Too bad," she whispered. "I was kind of hoping it would last until I left."

Jim let out a chuckle, "Oh! Well, the _meteorological _heatwave, that's over," he bent his head to kiss her below her ear before whispering: "But the sizzling _carnal_ heatwave? I think they're forecasting no change in that for the foreseeable future."

Pam smirked, "Is that so?"

Jim winked, stepped back, and took her by the hand. "The faster we get out of here, the faster we can get back home and I can make love to you all night long."

Pam grabbed her purse. "You're on."


End file.
